


Of Sea and Sky

by willthisearthbe



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: F/F, F/M, Mates, also mor deserves a girlfriend so this is me giving her one, he deserves it, some azriel loving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willthisearthbe/pseuds/willthisearthbe
Summary: Morghana finds herself stranded on the shores of a strange land--alone without any money or a clue of where she is. Azriel is sent out to investigate. They both find themselves in a peculiar situation.





	1. Chapter 1 - City of Stars

**Morghana**

 

I was stranded. Utterly, helpless on the shore of some foreign land. A gleaming river – the very same on which’s bank I was now stranded – led to the walls of a city bustling with life, even from afar. The hot midday sun was already drying the hair that clung to my wet face, the dress I’d worn a soggy mess. I started toward the city, hoping to find help there.

                A clear blue sky dotted with stars hung overhead. I wondered why the stars shone even in the daylight. What strange land was this? My clothes were semi-dry by the time I entered the city, my hair dry at the top and still wet at the bottom. The streets were filled with vendors, High Fae and Lesser Faeries alike. Somehow, the people here looked more alive than they did on the continent – at least I guessed I wasn’t on the continent anymore.

                I pushed my hands into the pockets of my dress, searching for any remains of what I’d had on me at the time of the shipwreck. Nothing but one silver coin. Great. Perfect.

                Annoyed, I looked around, searching for someone who could at least tell me where I was. I spotted a vendor, who looked kind enough, selling what looked like paintbrushes. Reluctantly, I approached him, trying to make light of just how utterly horrible I must have looked.

                I cleared my throat. “Sorry, can you tell me what city this is?”

                The vendor glanced at me, confused. “Why, this is Velaris, of course. Are you looking for something, young lady?” Indeed, the vendor had every right to call me young. He was a Lesser Faerie, his skin green and wrinkled, age spots dotting his face.

                “What… country exactly is this, again?” I asked, trying to sound like I’d simply forgotten.

                “Prythian, dear. Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He’d stepped out from behind his wagon where the paintbrushes were splayed out on display. Prythian. I was far, far from home.

                I shook my head, denying, “No, thank you. I’m perfectly well.”

                With that, I advanced into the street. The cobblestones gleamed in the sunlight, the river I’d come from reflecting the sun in a way that made it look like liquid starlight flowed through the city. The bustle of the city was strangely soothing. I realised that I must have been in the artist’s quarter, canvases on display in windows and on the street, small shops advertising their wares.

                With a heavy heart, I recognised the way it somehow resembled the cities at home – way across the sea. Still, this city seemed more vibrant, more alive than anything I’d ever witnessed before. Like life simply flowed through the streets of this city and its denizens drank from it and strived on it. A strange sense of belonging overcame me as I began passing more and more cafés and restaurants readying for the nightly myriad of guests.

                The sun was setting – I knew by the way my shadow was getting longer and longer, stretching across the street. Yet, it seemed that the fun had only begun. People began pouring out of every nook and cranny of the city, occupying the seats in the food courts.

                A particularly loud group passed me, two obviously Illyrian males and four others I presumed to be High Fae – three females and a male. All dressed in finery that would put even the Vallahan royals to shame. The loudest of them – dressed surprisingly casually compared to the others, red Siphons gleaming upon either of his hands – was gesturing wildly and discussing loudly with a female in a ravishing red dress. That same red colour was painted on her lips; her gold hair tucked behind her pointed ears. The leaders of the group, it seemed, were a High Fae male and female – undoubtedly mates, judging by the sheer force of the aura they were emitting – both dressed in midnight blue, their hands joined. They laughed with the others, and loudly, too.

                Trailing a step behind the group was the other Illyrian male, his wings tucked in tight, fighting leathers adorning his muscled body. Like the other Illyrian, he, too, bore a Siphon on each hand. He seemed to be surveying the area, always on the lookout for something off. I hoped he wouldn’t notice my tattered appearance, that he would overlook me in the crowd.

                Something in me recoiled as I beheld the last member of the group. A tiny female, raven hair cropped to the chin, steel eyes telling the story of something wicked that lurked underneath. Something that would not hesitate to kill on sight – that would enjoy it thoroughly. I didn’t dare stare at her longer than I needed.

                The group advanced into one of the restaurants, the owner greeting them with a smile that shone just like the sunlight that was now gone. All of them entered, the Illyrian at the back last, turning around one last time before he, too, took a seat inside. I could have sworn our eyes met, hazel on hazel, but abandoned the thought when he turned.

                What a strange city this was.

 

*******

 

**Azriel**

 

Azriel advanced into the study, shadows gathering at his feet. They followed him into the library until he stood before Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court and his friend.

                “Can I talk to you?” Azriel spoke, not catching Rhys off-guard, but surprising him nonetheless.

                “We’re talking now, aren’t we?” Rhysand countered, raising an eyebrow at the Shadowsinger.

                Azriel huffed, perhaps in annoyance, maybe in amusement, and said, “There’s something going on in the city. I thought you might want to know.”

                He lifted a brow again. “Tell me.”

                “A female – a High Fae – has been wandering around the city for some days now. She must have stranded on the riverbanks of the Sidra. Nobody knows her or who she is and from what I’ve gathered she doesn’t know where she is either.”

                Rhys seemed amused, sipping at the wine that was resting lazily in his hand. “And what do you make of her, Az? Is she a threat to us?”

                Azriel shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

                “You don’t _know_ what to make of her, do you?” Rhys said, sipping his wine. His lips curled at the shake of his friend’s head. “Interesting. Keep an eye on her,” he ordered, Az nodding and stepping away. Maybe he’d tell Cassian about her. Though, he doubted he’d be any help in the matter. Feyre? Probably not. Mor and Amren he didn’t even consider. They’d cause more trouble than it was worth. For now, he’d just rely on his spies and observe. See where it would lead him. This was his city after all, and he knew every last niche of it, down to the dirtiest, darkest bits.

 

*******

 

It had been a week now. A week of watching.

                Azriel was ready to face her head on now. The spying didn’t do much. The female spoke to no one except the innkeeper of the inn she was staying at – so conveniently close to Rita’s that Az thought it almost a shame not to have his shadows watch her.

                It was almost midnight now. Az leaned against the cold stone of the brick wall separating the street from the Sidra, watching the alley that she’d no doubt emerge from any second now. The suspense was killing him on the spot; he’d been waiting for so long to finally confront her. Despite watching for an entire week, he’d found out next to nothing – not even her name. Strange, he thought.

                A figure emerged from the shadows just as he had predicted and stopped on the opposite side of the street. She was watching him as he leaned against the wall. Then she approached and stopped again, metres before him.

                “Hello, Shadowsinger,” she greeted him, her eyes on his wings and the shadows circling around them.

                “Hello, stranger,” Azriel countered, his gaze piercing hers.

                Then, silence. “Care for a drink?” she finally asked, her body already angled to walk away. “I don’t have any money, though, so you would have to pay.” Azriel nodded and fell into step beside her, entering Rita’s without hesitation. They sat down at a small booth in the back, both ordering their share of sweet red wine. The music thrummed in the background but not loud enough to mask the silence that hung between them. Unsurprisingly, they were staring at each other, occasionally casting their glances to their wine and the dancing people. Azriel hoped desperately that he wouldn’t see Mor or Cassian – or worse Rhys and Feyre.

                “Well, Shadowsinger, my name is Morghana. What is yours?” she spoke, her lips hovering above the rim of her wineglass. “Azriel,” he replied curtly, sending a wicked grin in her direction. She returned the gesture by sending him an equally as flirtatious smile. It was like something had clicked between them – like lightning had struck in that very moment – and suddenly the ice broke. Azriel wasn’t on duty anymore and they had both let their guard down.

                “Morghana, just how did you get into this city? Everything here is very closely monitored,” Azriel said, raising his wine glass from the table.

                The corners of Morghana’s mouth shot up. “I was stranded. Our shipwrecked in a storm just above Night Court territory. Though, I don’t exactly know where I am now.”

                Azriel explained, “Still in the Night Court. Only in a city unknown to most.”

                Amusement spread over Morghana’s face. “And you’re here on behalf of your High Lord, then? Finding out who exactly I am and how I managed to find this guarded city?”  Azriel didn’t reply. “I can tell you one thing, Azriel. I wasn’t looking for it. All I want to do is find a way to contact my people then go home.”

                “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Azriel declared, both of his scarred hands resting calmly on the table. Morghana looked at them in wonder, imagining the stories behind the scars. Little did she know they were not battle scars.

                She didn’t question Azriel on why she couldn’t contact her people, she only asked, “Can I meet your High Lord, then? See if he’ll find a way to get me home.”

                Azriel contemplated his answer for long, swishing the wine around in its glass. “I’ll see what I can do.” He blended into the shadows so well, the only thing truly visible was the hazel of his eyes shining in the firelight. Morghana’s sharp eyes could barely make out the line of his mouth as he spoke.

                Azriel slipped out of the booth, standing tall above Morghana’s small form. The membranous wings at his back were only truly visible now that he stood, his back facing against the firelight. Morghana thought they were beautiful – otherworldly, even. Illyrians were native to Prythian – to the Night Court – and as such, she’d rarely ever seen any in Vallahan.

                She realised she’d been staring when she noticed how long they’d stood before each other in silence. _Touch them_ , something feral seemed to whisper in her head. She shoved the thought down and bid Azriel goodbye. He’d find her again, no doubt.


	2. Chapter 2 - Strange Things Did Happen Here

**Azriel**

 

Cassian leaned against the armchair Mor was sitting in, looking at Rhysand. The High Lord and Lady were standing in front of the windows opening to the balcony, waiting for Azriel’s report. Amren was absent, off doing Cauldron knows what. The Shadowsinger – for once in casual clothes – looked tired. Deeply and utterly tired.

                “Well, what have you got for us, Az?” Rhysand mused, happy that something was happening for once. Azriel looked less pleased with his own reply.

                “She wants to meet with you.”

                “Who wants to meet whom?” Mor intercepted. Cassian looked equally as confused.

                “Hold up. Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

                Azriel raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

                Cassian and Mor exchanged wicked smiles, turning to Rhys who simply shook his head at them. “She’s not his Mate, if that’s what you think it is. More like an unwanted visitor.”

                Feyre shot Rhysand a look that seemed to say, _How are you so sure of that?_

                _I’m not_ , Rhys’ answering glance conveyed. He sent that same boyish smile into Feyre’s direction Azriel knew he himself had given Morghana days ago. And the day after that. And the one after that.

                What would they say if he voiced his suspicions? Would they be angry or happy or perhaps even a little sad? He wasn’t so sure. Azriel knew his friends well, but the topic had never come up with him before – not with any of the lovers he’d had, even when he’d been less discreet about them than usual. But Morghana wasn’t his lover. He’d known her for only a few days, had only first talked to her less than a week ago. Had only started giving her those promising smiles that evening he first confronted her.

                “She wants a time and a place, Rhys,” Az explained, keeping his composure.

                “Tell her to come whenever she wants. I’m available-“

                “During the day,” Feyre interrupted, “preferably around noon. I’ll go to her.” The corners of Rhys’ mouth moved up in a grin. Azriel nodded, not questioning the occasional battle of dominance his High Lord and Lady fought. Mor grumbled something about “stupid mated couples”, Cassian hitting the back of her head playfully.

                Azriel left without saying a word or making a sound.

 

*******

 

**Morghana**

 

Azriel came to see me again the two days after we first formally met. We sat down at Rita’s, and he told me about his life at the Night Court. In turn, I told him of Vallahan – of my home. I told him of my brothers and he told me of his. I wanted to see his brothers once, just once, to punish them for what they’d done to him. To make them regret it. But I was sure he’d already done that himself.

                Azriel explained his Illyrian training, how his friends played a big part in his life and that he’d protect them no matter what. I told him I’d never had friends worth fighting for. His expression changed when I’d said that, and he’d responded by telling me to wait until I met his friends.

                That he wanted me to meet them caught me off guard – we’d advanced into a tricky part of conversation. One where I didn’t know whether he was being serious or not. One where I didn’t know whether I could still trust my instincts or not.

                By the third day, we’d laid our whole past and present on the table for each other to see. And I could’ve sworn that night when I returned to my room at the inn – which Azriel was generously funding at this point – that there was a tug on my mind when I went to bed. Like a distant hand brushing against a barrier I didn’t know existed.

                My thoughts were swarmed with Azriel by the fourth day of knowing him. _Azriel, Azriel, Azriel_ , that little feral voice in my mind seemed to chant.

                I went out on the street, walking past the vendors I’d first come across a week ago. The artists’ quarter was once again bustling with colour and life.

                The sun was once again illuminating the river – called the Sidra Azriel had told me – in a way that made it look like the stars had fallen from the sky and landed right there in the river. I stopped to sit and just look at the river.

                Someone behind me cleared their throat and I turned around. Behind me stood one of the most beautiful females I’d ever laid eyes upon – a devastating beauty. And the High Lady of the Night Court, no less. A step behind her was Azriel, in casual attire as to not attract too much attention.

                “My name is Feyre. And who are you?” the female said, taking the place beside me. Azriel remained standing, guarding. I couldn’t help but look to him, to try and find his gaze, make contact somehow.

                “I’m Morghana. From Vallahan. I’m sure Azriel has told you about me.” I cast my glance at Azriel, but he remained rigid – on duty.

                “In fact, Az hasn’t said a word about you, Morghana. I found out about you from my mate, Rhys,” Feyre explained, seeming solemn. I smiled, he’d kept my secrets, my stories, to himself. It had taken him less than a week to become territorial. _Fae males…_ , I thought.

                “I was on my way home from the island my family fled to during the war. We knew there would be trouble, even on the continent, with Hybern on the loose. Our ship wrecked in a storm above the coast of the Night Court – and the rest is history. I don’t know where my family is but I’m assuming they managed to get out somehow,” I explained.

                Feyre simply nodded and listened. Listened and nodded. She believed me – without question she believed me. And I wondered whether it was a good trait of hers or just sheer naivety. But I was telling the truth, and she believed me. And Azriel believed me too. There was a gleam in his eyes every time I mentioned the shipwreck. Like he blamed himself for something he had no way of preventing. He didn’t even know I existed then.

                “And do you want to go home, Morghana?” Feyre asked, giving me the time to think about it.

                I contemplated the possibilities. If I went home, I’d be married off to the highest bidder – Azriel knew this, and yet he hadn’t questioned me when I told him I wanted to go home to my family. I would see them, but the possibility of seeing Azriel again was very low. I would be home, but a piece of my heart would probably stay here, in Velaris, and it’d always feel like something was missing.

                I glanced at Azriel. He held my stare, his expression soothing. “Frankly, I’m not so sure I want to go back anymore.” His eyes shone green and brown and amber in the sunlight and I felt so lost in them that, for a second, I forgot about the High Lady beside me.

                “I see,” she announced, “then you’re welcome to stay with us at the townhouse. Until you’ve decided. And should you really want to stay, I’m sure we’ll find something for you to do.”

                I smiled and thanked her. Azriel’s shoulders seemed to slump like a weight was being lifted from them. _Thank the Cauldron_ , his voice seemed to say in my mind and I visibly flinched at the sudden sound. Azriel was still before us. We were looking each other in the eyes hard enough to stare holes into each other. _Could you hear me just now?_ his voice again slipped through my mind.

                _I could. I can,_ I said to him, not sure whether he would still hear the reply or not. _Mate, mate, mate,_ that feral voice in my mind screamed once again.

                “You’re my mate. We’re mates,” Azriel whispered and I wasn’t so sure whether he’d said it in my mind or out loud. But with the way Feyre’s eyes were darting between us, he must’ve said it out loud. Slowly, I rose to my feet, not sure what to say or do. That jolt, that bolt of lightning we’d felt that very first evening, it hadn’t been the ice breaking – it had been the mating bond.

                I’d met my Mate, and hadn’t recognised him as such for days.

                “What now?” I asked Azriel, for once forgetting about the High Lady sitting on the wall behind me.

                “First, you come home with us. Then we’ll see.” I didn’t dare stand any closer to him than I already did. Behind me, Feyre got up, then said, “I’ll leave you two to it. You have some things to talk about, I assume.” Azriel nodded and the High Lady prowled off, casting one last glance at us over her shoulder.

                Mate. Azriel was my Mate. Strange things did happen in the City of Starlight.

               

*******

 

The High Lord’s townhouse was more than I’d expected it to be. It was a big mansion – not a house – that overlooked a big part of Velaris. You could see all the way to the harbour from its entrance. A flicker of nervousness shot down that bond – the mating bond. I looked to Azriel at my side. On the outside, he seemed more calm and collected than ever, but the emotions he accidentally sent down the bond told me otherwise. I tried to send him a sliver of reassurance – he turned to me, though I wasn’t sure whether the sentiment had gotten to him.

                “Thank you,” he murmured, and I knew it had. I gave him a lazy smile, evidence of my own nervousness. Surprisingly, his hand brushed my upper arm to reassure me, but instead, it sent a jolt of electricity into me. He must have felt it too because his scarred hand retreated almost as fast as it had come.

                Reluctantly, he pushed the door to the townhouse open, revealing a big foyer. Azriel had told me that all of the High Lord and Lady’s Inner Circle each have their own room in the townhouse – even though, they all had their own places, too. Judging by the sheer size of the house, there probably was room enough for even more people than that.

                Azriel pushed past me, leading me into – what seemed to be – the dining room. A male towered above Feyre – her mate, the High Lord Rhysand. Beside them were the people I’d seen the very first time I’d seen all of them walk into Rita’s. The Morrigan, wicked and beautiful with that red-painted mouth of hers. Only a gleam in her eyes telling you of the warrior that lurked underneath. The General, Cassian – the loud one – with those powerful red siphons gleaming at his hands. Who had led the Illyrian forces in the war. Amren, who had been unleashed and Made anew in that final battle that made the earth shutter, even in Vallahan. And two more. One fierce, like cackling fires burned in her eyes. The other gentle and nice, like a spring breeze. The High Lady’s sisters, who had killed the King of Hybern.

                _Don’t let them hear you talk about them like that. You’ll never hear the end of it_. Azriel advised, without me realising that I’d cast the thoughts into his mind as well. I glanced at him. _Shall I tell you what they say about the mighty Shadowsinger where I come from?_ A wicked grin. _Save it for another time._

                I risked another look at the Court of Dreams. Somehow, those wicked smiles seemed inviting, daring me to come a step closer. And I did. With Azriel at my side, I did.


End file.
